


Untitled Jenny/Giles "Passion" AU

by havocthecat



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Character Death Fix, Episode: s02e17 Passion, F/M, Fix-It
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-02-20
Updated: 2005-02-20
Packaged: 2017-11-05 03:00:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/401720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/havocthecat/pseuds/havocthecat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I was going to write this into a longer Passion fix in 2002, but it stalled until 2005, when I posted what I could wrangle into a complete story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Untitled Jenny/Giles "Passion" AU

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted [here on LJ](http://havocthecat.livejournal.com/158564.html).

The candles are a warm glow in the darkened room. We turned out the lights a while ago and are lying together on the couch, our legs propped up on a coffeetable that was scuffed by shoes that had been worn by too many teenagers who had cared more about whether the world was about to end than whether or not they were ruining the furniture. "Well," says Rupert softly, breaking the comfortable silence. "It's rather later than I expected."

I nod. "Mm-hmm." I'd come over to Rupert's apartment after school bearing a peace offering of Chinese food, and been greeted at the door by Buffy. She'd looked just as shocked to see me as I had been to see her, but luckily, she'd just been leaving.

"You should--" Rupert pauses uncertainly. "I expect you'll want to be getting home soon. After all--"

"Rupert," I say, trying not to be too sharp with him, or to sound panicked. "It's Friday night. I don't have any place I have to be tomorrow morning. Can I--" I take a deep breath. "Can I stay? Just for the night? I'll sleep on the sofa; I can leave early in the morning. I just don't want to go outside, not after dark."

I almost think I see hope in his eyes when I ask to stay. I look away when I tell him I'll sleep on the couch. It hurts. It's not just that I'm so close to Rupert, but he has to take the first step. It's that I'm scared. I'm scared and I hate it. Thinking of going outside after sunset makes me shake, and I blink back tears quickly, before Rupert can see them.

"Of course," he says, his fingertips brushing gently along my cheek. I have a sudden suspicion that he knows exactly how I feel right now. "I wouldn't have it any other way...except I insist that you sleep in the bed. I'll be all right on the couch."

"Rupert--"

He cuts me off with a shake of his head. "Just a few days ago I thought I'd lost you, Jenny. You still haven't recovered from the concussion you received at Angelus' hands." He smiles at me gently and I smile back, not quite awkwardly, but--the familiarity we shared isn't there any more.

***

Rupert doesn't have any t-shirts I can borrow. I smile weakly at him when he shrugs apologetically and holds out a white oxford. "It's all I have," he says. "I hope it's adequate."

"Thanks," I tell him, and take it. He stammers and leaves, closing the door behind him. It doesn't take long to change, and I turn out the lights and practically run to the bed. I don't care if Angelus is no longer welcome in this house. I'm not going to feel safe for a very long time. It takes what seems like hours of tossing and turning, but eventually I fall asleep.

//I'm running for what seems like forever, and moving slowly. Too slowly. He's going to catch up, to kill me, and I can hear his sick laughter mocking me ask he walks--*walks*--effortlessly behind me. Then I'm on the stairs and he's got me. He's holding me by the neck. My head is throbbing and I'm too scared to move. I don't jab my thumb in his eyes, don't hit him again and run away while he screams in pain and clutches at an eye that I've gouged out. I'm panting heavily, my eyes wide, and Angelus looks like the demon my people taught me about. His breath stinks of rancid blood, and his hands rest on my chin, deceptively gently and he twists, quickly, before I can scream.//

Then I wake up as the alarm goes off. I'm panting and sweating. Thank God I still have to wake up every hour; I wouldn't want to have been stuck in that nightmare any longer. I'm on a good lead with my translation program. Angelus may have destroyed the computer I work on at the school, but he's an idiot if he doesn't think I keep backups of all my work. Angelus isn't an idiot.

He'll be coming after me again. I have to figure out a way to restore his soul before that happens. If I alter a few variables in my program and clean up one of the clunkier subroutines, that may work. I've got a pen and my notes in my purse, and I'm pretty sure I can sneak downstairs and get them without waking Rupert up.

The problem is that damn concussion. As I try to sneak around in the dark, I get dizzy and stumble against one of the end tables. Rupert is startled awake by my clumsiness and he reaches for his glasses with one hand and a crossbow with the other.

"It's just me, Rupert," I tell him. He slips his glasses on and peers at me worriedly. I shrug, embarrassed by his stare. "Sorry."

"Dear God, you're white as a sheet," he says, throwing back the blanket and coming over to me. He's standing right in front of me, wearing pajama bottoms and nothing else, and dear Goddess even though I'm traumatized, embarrassed, and mentally running subroutines, I want him. I sigh and try to pull myself together so I can focus on what he's saying.

"You're freezing, Jenny." When did he start holding my hands in his? It feels good. "Your skin is clammy. Come back to bed. I'll get you a cup of tea."

He leads me up the stairs and gets me settled in bed, tucking the covers around me before darting downstairs to get the teapot boiling. I stare at the clock. 1:30 a.m. It's a very good thing this isn't a weeknight. I don't think I'll be getting back to sleep for a while.

When Rupert comes back, he's carrying a tray with a teapot, two cups and saucers, a creamer, a little bowl full of lumps of sugar, and a plat with lemon slices. "Gee, you really go all out to impress a gal, don't you?" I say, smiling. "Here I figured I'd just have a cup of hot water and a teabag."

He smiles at me and sets the tray down on the nightstand. "I'm worried about you," Rupert tells me, pouring a cup of tea and adding cream and sugar. I shake my head when he reaches for a slice of lemon. "You still haven't told us why Angelus tried to kill you, Jenny."

"Janna," say abruptly. When Buffy heard about Angelus attacking me, she'd just assumed that it was his way of trying to get to her. Rupert glances at me quizzically, and I decide to clarify. "My name is Janna. At least, that's the name I was born with. I prefer Jenny." I take a deep breath and let it out with a sigh. "Of the Kalderash. I didn't really have a last name when I grew up; we didn't really need one. I made up Calendar myself when I went to school." I shrug at him. "The tribe sends the rebellious ones away, and I guess I was a bit of a hellraiser when I was a kid. My punishment was to watch Angelus; to make sure he suffered for what he'd done. They never told me why he had to suffer."

"I know," says Rupert. "But you're avoiding the question, Jenny. For Angelus to strike at you there must have been some sort of reason. Why?"

"Get my purse for me," I say suddenly.

"What?" asks Rupert.

"Please," I say. "I--there are some things in there I need to show you."

He nods. "All right."

***

Rupert comes back upstairs a few minutes later, holding my purse, which is dangling from the straps because he doesn't really know how to carry one. "Thank you," I say, and he nods again before handing it to me.

He sits at the edge of the bed, next to me, and looks at me expectantly. He's really too close. It's distracting me. I wish he'd sit in the chair, but I won't tell him that.

I reach inside my purse and pull out an old book with yellowed pages. "This is a book of spirit rituals. They're mostly concerned with the undead. My people weren't big on writing much down, but--they made an exception for these. The only problem is that they wrote them in code."

"I'd heard these spells were lost," says Rupert.

"You're almost right," I say. "The transliteration annals and anyone who could decipher the rituals--everything was lost during the Holocaust."

"I see," Rupert murmurs.

Then I pull out a steno pad and a yellow disk. I flip open the pad and hand it to him.

"I don't understand," says Rupert. "This just looks like more of your computer gibberish."

"It's a translation program designed to decode the book based on a random sampling of the text. The book contains the only known copy of the ritual of the undead."

"Which is the curse your tribe placed on Angelus," he says. "Angelus--"

"Doesn't want his soul restored," I say. "That's why he came after me. I'm close to translating it, Rupert. My backup's on this disk. I think I can translate it in another day or two and if I can manage to dig up another Orb of Thessulah, I can restore Angel's soul."

"Dear God!" exclaims Rupert. "You mean--"

I shrug. "Yeah. I mean."

"This is amazing. But how did you ever think of it?"

"I was trying to make it up to you," I say. "To Buffy."

And then he kisses me.

\--end--


End file.
